Show Me How
by Peaches of History
Summary: They say that love comes when you least expect it, and love has never come easy for Wade Barrett. One evening, however, things begin to change for him, after finding a picture lying in the hallway. Is it finally his chance to show that he still knows how to love someone? Or will the challenges that come with any relationship stop him? Wade Barrett/OC


He sat down on the bench, holding the old photograph in his hands, feeling the frayed edges in between his rough finger tips. It was a sepia colored picture, with a little boy in a baseball cap that was too big for him, and he was behind a fence with his fingers laced inside the diamond links.

For a moment he set it on his bag, grabbing a few of his things and packing them away, snagging the picture just in time to keep it from sliding onto the wet floor of the locker room. It was already crinkled enough, and he assumed it belonged to one of the divas or one of the workers, as it appeared to him to be a picture that a mother might carry around.

Wade shrugged to himself, taking his bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he looked down at the picture again. He turned it over to find a name written neatly across the back - or a name that was once neat, as fade had smudged the name and made it illegible. He decided to ask one of the divas - surely she would know, the divas knew each other well enough and some of them had children.

He left the locker room and headed over to catering, where he found a few of the superstars hanging around BS'ing and chatting it up at tables. Justin Gabriel, or Paul Lloyd, waved him over when he saw Wade, gesturing to an empty chair. The British man walked over to the table, dropped his bag, and held out the picture.

"Who is this?" Paul questioned, taking the photograph.

"That's what I was about to ask you. One of the divas must have dropped it in the hallway." Normally Wade wouldn't have been so keen to find the owner of the picture, but it was a little boy and his best guess told him that it was a mother's favorite picture, just by the way it was faded and crinkled. Something inside him just wouldn't let him leave that lying in the hallway.

Paul handed the picture to Phil Brooks, who took a look at it and shook his head. "I don't know, Wade." The tattooed man shrugged his shoulders loosely. "It could be one of the diva's kids. Hey, it might even be Paul's." He referred to Triple H with a nod. "He has kids. So does Orton."

Wade shrugged in return. "I'm really not sure. I just figured it ought to be returned. No sense leaving it lying around."

Paul shrugged, looking up at Wade. "Ask one of the divas. They'd probably know better than we do."

Before Wade could respond, Phil stopped him short. "You know, this kid kinda looks like one of the creative guys. Well, one of the ladies who works in creative. I've spoken to her a couple times, when I was being briefed on one of my matches. Come to think of it, I've seen this picture before, too. It was on the table where she was working. I bet it's hers, Wade."

"What was her name?" Wade questioned, figuring he'd stop by the area where creative worked and hand it off to one of them. "I'll drop it by there. Or you could do it, if you'd like."

"Nah man, I'm meeting a couple of the other guys for dinner. I've got to get going."

"You know her name?"

Phil shook his head. "No. Sorry. All I can tell you," he started, "is that all of the times I've seen her, she's had a braid of some kind in her hair. She's a brunette. Just ask for her." Phil grabbed his jacket and bag, slinging both over opposite shoulders. "Better yet, just drop the picture off with one of the other creative girls. They'll know who it belongs to."

"My sentiments exactly," Wade remarked, nodding to him. He picked up his own bag and tucked the picture inside his pocket. "Thanks Phil, Paul." He left quickly, before anyone could bring him into a conversation. He wanted to get the picture off of his hands - it was already occupying too much of his time, which unsettled him a little - and all he could think about was the bed waiting for him in the hotel.

Creative worked from small rooms in the backs of the arenas, where they wouldn't be disturbed but where they could easily be found. Wade had never really ever had to make a trip back to see them, as most of the time someone was sent to him to brief him or he was given a run down a few days ahead of time.

He knocked on the door once, twice, three times. It was answered rather quickly, by a shorter man with spiked hair, a security pass around his neck, and a black t-shirt with the W logo on it and staff written across the back. "Mr. Barrett," he greeted, seeming surprised to see the superstar standing before him. "What can I do for you?"

Wade almost felt a little silly as he pulled the picture out of his pocket. "One of the creative workers dropped this, I believe. I thought he or she should have it back."

The man took the picture from his hands and immediately nodded. "Oh, yeah. This is Marshall's son. She was saying she had dropped this somewhere." He looked up at Wade. "She'll be glad to get this back. This boy is her pride and joy."

Wade nodded quickly. "It's not a problem. No sense leaving it lying around." He waved a hand dismissively and turned to leave.

* * *

Wade tossed his things into the back of the rental car, the idea of sleep evermore appealing to him. Thankfully the hotel was only a few blocks from the arena, so he would need only to check in and the bed - and sleep - would be his. He closed the trunk of the car and grabbed the keys from his pocket as he headed around the car.

As he opened the door a voice stopped him and he grimaced, having to keep himself from smacking his face on the roof of the car.

"Barrett!" It was almost frantic, borderline frantic, but had more of an urgent tint to it. He turned his head to see a woman jogging towards him in the same t-shirt the man from creative had been wearing.

"Yes?" he questioned, paused behind the car door, one foot already in the car.

As she came into view, her breath visible in the cool night air, he noticed a brown braid hanging down just past her shoulder. "TJ told me that you dropped off a picture?"

"Yes." Maybe picking that picture up wasn't such a great thing after all. It certainly was keeping him from his bed.

She smiled, out of breath from running to catch up with him, but it was a genuine smile nonetheless. "Thank you. That's the only picture I have of my son, Reuben."

He couldn't help himself. "You came all this way just to thank me for that?"

"Yes." She nodded but looked rather embarrassed. "It may not seem important to you, but it means the world to me. Not very many people would have gone out of their way to drop off a picture for someone that they don't even know."

Wade forgot his awaiting bed for just a moment as he looked down at this woman, who had come out in the cold to return his favor. He hadn't expected it, but it was a pleasant surprise, and it changed his previous thoughts about picking up the picture. "It's quite all right. It seemed like the right thing to do, Ms...?"

"Rhett. Marshall Rhett," she said quickly, extending her hand. Wade took her hand and she shook his firmly. "I'm sorry to keep you. I'm sure you're exhausted but I felt like I had to thank you for returning the picture. Reuben means everything to me and that picture is the closest thing I have to him while I'm traveling."

Wade wondered for a moment how often she got to see her son. He had heard from many of the superstars and divas that being away from their spouses and children was the most difficult part about traveling. "Like I said. It's quite all right, Ms. Rhett."

"Marshall. It's just Marshall," she replied, nodding, before waving her hands. "But you should get some rest, I'm sure you've got a busy schedule ahead of you." She paused, unsure if her words would suffice, but satisfied that they would, she turned and walked back off through the parking garage, disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared.

Wade watched her go for a moment, his head swimming with curiosity and a keen sense of satisfaction as he slipped into the driver's seat.

* * *

So there's the first chapter. Kind of short, but I think it accomplished what I wanted it to. I only own my OC! Feel free to leave a review. Comments, questions, constructive criticism - it's all welcome and appreciated!

~Peaches


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